


Ink Me Up, Spidey

by nni



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, i guess, random tattoo shop au because i can, yes the title is a stupid star trek reference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nni/pseuds/nni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i></i><br/><span class="small">"Personal space. Ever heard of it?" He took a bite of his sandwich and fiddled with his glasses again, glancing up as the other shifted closer again.</span><br/> </p><p>  <i></i><br/><span class="small">"Not really, no," was the reply, and the way that he was looking the brunette over was, uh..interesting. It made him uncomfortable, something in his chest jumping a little and oh god, was that...please don't let him be blushing. Wait, why would he be blushing? Well then again, who doesn't get a little red in the cheeks when someone is so blatantly checking them out? And it was a little hard to deny that that was what was happening here when Wade's lips ghosted over the tattoo on his neck which sent some rather unwelcome shivers down his spine.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lunch Break

**Author's Note:**

> I was talking with a friend of mine and we decided what if tattoo parlour AU, and then this happened.   
>  I am so sorry.   
>  Uh, I dunno, there might be more chapters if anyone would actually be interested.

Peter was focused intently on the ink that he was applying to his customer's arm, took a moment to switch colours and nudge his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. God, he could do this forever, getting lost in the flow of ink through his needle, pieces of art blooming on people's skin under his touch, sleeves pulled up to the elbow so he could admire some of his own markings for inspiration. Firing up the gun again, he sighed at the dinging of the parlour door. Quarter past eleven, that would be Wade, late as usual.

"What's up bitches?!" he called, bouncing into his work station.

Loud. If Peter had to describe Wade fucking Wilson in one word, that word would be loud. Or maybe obnoxious, depending on the day. Seriously, how had that guy even gotten hired? Had Peter ever even seen him with a customer.Whatever, not important. He rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses again, assuring the girl who sat in his chair that she wouldn't be here much longer.

"Hey sugartits, how's it hangin'?" Wade asked, leaning over the swinging half door that sectioned off Peter's work station, mouth still mostly full of breakfast burrito. That couldn't be sanitary.

"Wade, get out! And don't talk to the customers like that, it's rude. Jesus." He scoffed and tried to ignore the unwanted presence, mumbling apologies to his customer under his breath.

"Who says I was talkin' to her?" He winked and gave her a less than subtle once over, shrugging with one shoulder and tilting his head to the side. "Not bad either, though. Here's my card."

Peter glanced up at him with a look of disgust on his face, apologising more to the girl in the seat. Of course it was no wonder Wade was always hitting on the customers, which was really unprofessional. Another tick on the list of 'why the hell is Wade Wilson still working here,' otherwise known as 'reasons why Peter Parker's boss makes his life a living hell.'

He finished up after a few minutes, Wilson watching all the while. He spoke nearly constantly, as always, but Peter managed to tune it out for the most part. And the way he was staring at that needle, well, he seemed...genuinely interested. Which was kind of nice, especially his sincere sounding praise when the piece was done. And, well, what could he say? He was proud of his work.

"Damn, Pete. Should get you to do my next piece," he mused, eyeing the art for once and not shamelessly checking out the redhead as she admired her new ink, face beaming.

"Yeah, like you could fit anymore. Do you even have any space that's not completely covered in tattoos?" Peter replied as he he cleaned up and gave the girl her complimentary care package, moving past Wade to the counter to ring her up.

"Well I don't have any on my d--"

"WADE. Jesus Christ, new rule, you're not allowed to talk around the customers." Of course Wilson started to protest, but Peter shut him up quickly with a harsh look and a nudge, offering the woman a smile and a nod as she paid up and left. "Thank god, time for lunch," he muttered and walked to the front of the shop to flip the 'open' sign to say 'be back soon.' He wouldn't bother leaving it set to 'open'; Wade may have been there but without fail, Peter's break time was his break time, regardless of how late he'd come in.

Surprise, surprise, as Peter made his way back to the break room, Wade was right behind him. "How do you even still work here? I don't think I've ever seen you do any work here. And no, running around firing an empty ink gun and making sound effects doesn't count as work," he added as he pulled out the actually rather pathetic sandwich he'd packed for lunch. But hey, the last thing he wanted to do on his lunch break was waste it looking for something to eat, so, that would have to do.

"Me and Nate got an understanding," the slacker replied, almost absently, sitting a little closer than really necessary, causing Peter's lip to twitch and his hips to scoot a little further away. Of course, he would have it in good with the owner of the shop. ..Actually, that made a lot of sense, except for the part where he could be on anybody's good side.

"Personal space. Ever heard of it?" He took a bite of his sandwich and fiddled with his glasses again, glancing up as the other shifted closer again.

"Not really, no," was the reply, and the way that he was looking the brunette over was, uh..interesting. It made him uncomfortable, something in his chest jumping a little and oh god, was that...please don't let him be blushing. Wait, why would he be blushing? Well then again, who doesn't get a little red in the cheeks when someone is so blatantly checking them out? And it was a little hard to deny that that was what was happening here when Wade's lips ghosted over the tattoo on his neck which sent some rather unwelcome shivers down his spine. "Uhhh, hey there, whatcha doin'?" he asked, utterly failing to remove himself from the other's lips.

Wade just grinned, worked his way up to his ear and practically purred, "You, hopefully." That was the exact moment when Peter's body stiffened, the sandwich dropped from his hands barely managing to land on the table without falling off the edge, and it was something else's turn to make a jump, unexpected and much lower in his anatomy.  
"Uhhh, excuse me?" He protested, making the world's weakest attempt to move away because oh wow, that tongue flicking over his ear lobe was really really distracting. Wait, why was that distracting? This is Wade Wilson, Wade goddamn Wilson, and Peter was every level of not interested. Except oh okay maybe he was a little interested in the way those teeth were grazing along his jaw. "I don't think so," he finally replied, voice entirely void of resolve.

He just circled around behind Peter, pressing a kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, snaking a hand around his waist and trailing dangerously low. "Then stop me," he muttered against the skin, nipping gently. Peter's hand was slipping over Wade's much larger one and gripped it lightly but absolutely, astronomically failed to move it any way but further down. "Heh, that's what I thought," he added with a low chuckle, sinking his teeth into the flesh a little harder. "Come on, you think I haven't noticed you checking me out? And I gotta tell ya, those skinny jeans really do wonders for ya."

Peter was mortified. He would do no such thing, no, never. Well, not to Wade at least, right? Yeah maybe his eyes would wander after him once in a while when he sauntered in late like he owned the place but that was strictly in the interest of professional disgust, not because okay maybe the way he filled out those jeans was kind of nice and...oh god, no, no, this could not be happening. He did not think that this jackass was hot and he definitely, definitely didn't like the way his thumb felt as it applied a solid pressure, brushing down the front of his pants. "Shut up," he groaned, exasperated but mostly with himself and yeah, okay, maybe there was a bit of arousal in his tone. "You and me, never gonna happen." Goddammit, he really needed his voice to stop shaking and coming out all breathy and pitched because it was not helping his cause. Of course, he was pretty sure there was no cause anymore other than getting as much friction in his jeans as humanly possible; he could deal with this revelation that maybe hatred wasn't what he felt for the guy when his head wasn't swimming in hormones and his body searching for more pressure.

"Oh really?" He teased, palming at the firmness beneath his hand and making Peter swallow hard, gasp in a breath and let his head fall back against Wade's shoulder with his hips rising into the touch. "Heh, sounds like you mean 'oh god, Wade, ohhhh take me noooooow,'" he teased, and Peter was mad as hell that the thought of it made him a little harder, made him bite back a groan and press back with a little more force.  
"Oh my god just shut up before I change my mind," he half pleaded and turned his head to smash their lips together as he frantically undid his pants because, hey, making out was hot and well with a hand already on his dick he might as well. It was a little awkward and forced at first but Wade didn't seem to mind, shoving his tongue past Peter's lips and lapping at the roof of his mouth which felt amazing and he didn't bother holding back the quiet groan that escaped this time. That seemed to be the thing to do because Wade grunted back, knitted his brow and tightened his grip before his hand slid across the band of the brunette's boxers and beneath the fabric, grasping him tightly and deepening the kiss to something much more urgent.

Something about the way Wade reacted was just really fucking hot, and Peter couldn't help but groan in earnest, rock his hips into the hand that pumped him firmly, quickening its pace, and wrap his arm up around Wade's neck. Maybe he could be a pretty good artist, because Peter could already tell that he was good with his hands and it was slightly embarrassing that so many muffled noises were slipping between their mouths, his brow furrowed and his hips moving so greedily into the touch. Wade was surprisingly quiet (well, except for the filthy moans and muttered curses), must have been incredibly focused on the way he moved his hand and the feeling of Peter's cock against his skin (which, now that Peter thought about it, was sort of coarse and uneven, but he was in no position to wonder about that at the moment). The thought made slim hips thrust up a little more roughly, twitching against the palm that surrounded him.

"Mm, god, Wade," he panted, and that seemed to really be the right thing to say because Wade groaned and held him tighter in every way possible, a hardness pressing against Peter's back as the pace quickened. A muttered, eager "shit" slipped from his lips as he moaned loudly, silently thanking fucking god that they were the only two working this shift and he'd remembered to close the shop, otherwise this could be incredibly embarrassing. Wade's thumb caught over the tip and smeared a heavy swath of precum over the hot flesh making them both groan. Apparently Wade liked that just as much as Peter did, because he pressed his thumb there again, letting it linger for a moment before rubbing small circles that made both of their breath come in ragged gasps as their tongues battled in each other's mouths, Peter's hips stuttering in their motion. "Oh, fuck," his voice was wrecked and it was obvious that he was close, very close. It didn't take much more of that thumb working its magic, a few more firm pumps and Wade's hot breath on his ear as he whispered "I wanna hear you cum, wanna see it," before he was pole vaulting past that edge and diving hard into his orgasm, climaxing harder than he had in quite a while, actually, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. Well other than absolutely wonderful and like he was fucking floating, his body buzzing as he came down.

He sighed in satisfaction and exhaustion, both parties breathing loudly and trying to even out as Wade chuckled low in his ear. "That? Was fucking hot. Told ya you wanted me," he teased with a smirk and a wink and, surprisingly, was considerate enough to drag himself into the bathroom and collect some toilet paper to clean Peter up, but he could do that himself thank you very much.  
"Let's not get too carried away now," he replied, stuffing himself back into his pants and glancing at the clock. Hey, he still had a little bit of time at least. Maybe he could actually eat. Awesome. Not that this was a bad way to spend his lunch hour.

"Whatever, you'll see. Next time you'll be begging me to give it to ya," Wade said matter of factly with a shrug and headed out to the front room. "I'm gonna go find some lunch. Later."

"Alright, I-- Next time?! What do you mean next time?! WADE?" he shouted, but the other was already gone. Oh god, next time. That was...that was a definite possibility. Shit. Peter had some serious thinking and sulking to get done on the rest of his break, and probably when he got home. But for now, he was satisfied to bask in his post-orgasm mindless bliss and eat the fuck out of that sandwich.


	2. There Are Easier Ways to Do This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ "Wade? Dude, what are you doing, you missed your entire shift," he said, sort of irritated, but he had to end the sentence with a grunt when he was whipped around and slammed against the glass door, Wade's body pinning him in place.  _   
>    
>  _"Yeah, had other shit to do man. 'Nother job. Now shut up and lemme shove my tongue down your throat."_   
> 

It was a slow day, but the middle of the week had a habit of being that way. And it was a damn good thing, too, because Wade hadn't even bothered to show up and it was growing dangerously close to the end of Peter's shift. But it was kind of nice, having the peace and quiet for a day without a motormouth coworker running around and potentially trying to shove his hand down Peter's pants again. Gave him time to think about the last time that had happened and the fact that he had actually succeeded.

There were a lot of things that he found deeply questionable, and that ranked high on the list. Which was exactly why it made him so uncomfortable that he found himself thinking of it often in the few days it had been, and that those few times had been accompanied not by bile rising in his throat and an urgent need for an exorcism but by...almost..fondness. Fondness, and maybe just the slightest hint of enjoyment with a dash of want just to spice things up, apparently.

Finally the clock clicked into place and Peter's shift was over. He loved his job, he really did, but on days like this where only a few people came in for a touch up here, a small job there, he'd rather be out with his skateboard underfoot, watching the city through the lens of his camera. He'd started getting antsy when the sun had gotten just low enough to cast that dusky glow over everything, the beginning of his favourite time of day, and now that he could finally clock out he fully planned on going out and enjoying what little bit of that twilight he had left.

He tugged on his jacket and slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a sniffle, keys jingling in his hand, about to leave and close shop, but on his way out he ran into a rather solid body, cursed under his breath and apoligised as he looked up to see-- really. Wade? It was closing time, this had to be a new record in lateness history. 

"Wade? Dude, what are you doing, you missed your entire shift," he said, sort of irritated, but he had to end the sentence with a grunt when he was whipped around and slammed against the glass door, Wade's body pinning him in place. 

"Yeah, had other shit to do man. 'Nother job. Now shut up and lemme shove my tongue down your throat."

Peter tried to protest, no really, but it was kind of hard with Wade making good on his threat, slamming their mouths together and pushing past his lips to lick at the roof of his mouth. That was surprisingly pleasant-- but no, no, can't be doing this, no way. He managed to rip himself away from that frankly dizzying tickling sensation long enough to shout "Wade! We can't be doing this, I still haven't gotten to properly yell at you about last time, and-- ohhh," he moaned, Wade's hips rocking against his and a tongue taking the opportunity of being free from his mouth to lick up his neck, teeth grazing his adam's apple. 

"Mm, kinda hopin' ya wouldn't get to that," Wade replied, hooking his fingers through the belt loops on Peter's jeans and dragging him closer. "Pete...Petey..if ya didn't notice, I'm kinda tryin' to have a moment, so if you'd kindly stop talking and let me do this right, that'd be great, thanks."

He didn't really leave much time for an answer, covering his mouth again and biting at his bottom lip. "This is rude, you know," he muttered against chapped lips, trying to hold back that damn betraying moan that was building in his chest. He didn't want this. He didn't. He had to keep telling himself that, because all evidence was pointing to the contrary; even his own thoughts were starting to doubt whether he really held as much disdain for Wilson as he'd tried to convince himself he did. And, well, he'd already given in once..maybe he needed just a little more time with Wade's mouth and all those filthy things he was using it for to really sort things out, and so what if his hands were sliding under Peter's shirt a little? That was allowed, right?

But no, just when he finally caved in and told himself that he was going to let this happen Wade just had to pull away, and.. oh...okay, uh, that was new. He dropped his head back against the glass, making a little less effort to cover his groan because the way Wade's lips were skating across the skin of his stomach, his teeth nipping at his hips, well...he'd have to be inhuman not to be enjoying himself. Maybe it was a sign that-- whoa whoa what? While Peter was waging this internal debate, Wade had managed to undo his fly, distracting him with his lips and teeth and tongue. Come to think of it, that was probably all part of some plan he'd had, goddammit.  
"Whoa! Hey, uh, what-- what's going on down there?" Peter asked, eyes darting down but snapping shut because, well, for one thing, Wade just looked really fucking hot looking up at him like that, but anybody could, right? But mostly because without a second thought, he'd managed to slide Peter into his mouth, down his throat; he hadn't even realised he'd gotten hard, and was actually kind of embarrassed that it had happened so quickly. And if Peter had thought the things he'd done with his tongue earlier were filthy than he was going to the deepest circles of hell for what he did now, the way it swirled around him and slid down his length and ohfuckingchrist stop thinking about it.  
And actually, you would think that when Wade let him slip from his mouth, it would've been easy to forget about it and move on to the next thing, but you'd be wrong. It actually just made it that much worse, and his hips involuntarily rocked forward looking for that warmth again, which only succeeded in making Wade's lips stretch into a smirk as he licked them, kissed the tip and made Peter twitch.

"Well I'm tryin' to ask ya on a date, but you're makin' it kinda difficult here," he replied before securing his lips around the brunette again.

"You-- wha? I don't really think this is how you-- ohhhh, my god," his concerns about proper courting etiquette were quickly cut off by Wade lapping at a little bead of liquid in a way that made him groan and a little pool of heat swell in his stomach before he went back to taking him in as fully as he could. "Wade, no, we... can't do this here, anyone could see and the door isn't even locked," he managed between pants and muffled groans, swallowing thickly as his fingers scrabbled at the door before one of his hands settled at the back of Wade's head. No use denying that this was happening; it so obviously was, and at this point he had absolutely no desire to argue that.

Wade rolled his eyes, seemingly annoyed for once at the amount of talking Peter wanted him to do when his mouth could so clearly be put to much better use. He grinned wide, though, pulling back only enough to be able to answer. "Shut up, it's hot. You love it, the thought that someone might catch us, me on my knees and all those fuckin' noises coming from you. Which, total turn on, by the way." 

Shit, he had been pretty loud, hadn't he? He didn't really notice, paying more attention to the feeling of Wade's words reverberating around him and sending chills up his spine than to what he was actually saying. Broad hands held him by his hips, dug in a little tightly but not enough for him to complain, effectively pinning him to this position as Wade shut him up by sliding down again, humming around him and slipping one hand into the crook of Peter's legs to dance his fingers around the sensitive skin of those little mounds of flesh that his mouth was too busy to entertain. 

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, and that had the awesome result of making Wade groan around him and bob his head a little faster, his tongue a little rougher and his grip on Peter's hips get just a little tighter, his thumb pressing into the bone. The other hand brushed past a spot that made his knees wobble and his breath hitch, moans going sort of raw as Wade caught on and did it again, and again, and Jesus he just wasn't gonna stop.

And no, he definitely didn't, he kept going, hollowing his cheeks and humming deeper and pressing his tongue into the slit until Peter just couldn't hold back any more. He groaned loudly, head slamming against the door, potential of being seen long forgotten as Wade helped him through his orgasm, licking him clean with a moan and swallowing the aftermath with ease, lapping up a thin trail of saliva that attached them when he pulled away.

Wade stood, licking a stray drop of cum from his lips and humming in satisfaction as Peter..well, his legs were still a little weak, and he slid down the glass, panting as he sunk to the floor. He pushed his glasses up and ran a hand through his hair, quickly tucking himself back into his jeans as he glanced up at blue eyes, mouth floundering for something to say. It was a good thing Wade had the upper hand in that department, because his brain was struggling with coming down from that high and trying to reconcile the fact that he was really, really starting not to hate this.

"So, free tonight then?" Wow, even his voice was a little rougher than usual; apparently Peter wasn't the only one enjoying this too much. He stared down at the smaller male for a moment before offering a hand to haul him to his feet. Either one of them was stronger than they thought, or Wade was playing the situation in his favour a bit, because Peter rose with enough force that he stumbled forward slightly, bumping into him.

"I-- what?" he asked, a little dumbfounded as he straightened out his clothes, cleared his throat and fumbled for the keys again. He'd apparently dropped them on the floor in all the commotion, so he scooped them up quickly and stood again to give Wade a questioning look, complete with quirked brow and wide eyes. 

Wade just grinned and folded his muscled arms across his chest. "What, you think I was kiddin'? I said I was askin' you on a date. Wasn't lyin'. You in or not, 'cause either way I'm gettin' me some pizza and I'm not gonna wait around forever."

Peter was...well, he was a little awestruck, and a little confused. He'd thought Wade was joking with his comment about dates, and right now he was having trouble deciding if this was the most inappropriate way to ask, or really kind of cute with a side of hot. 

"I...uh..no, I'm- I'm free. And I'm always up for pizza, so...you know, I'm not saying I'm going for this. I still kind of hate you," no, he really didn't, but he hated that fact so close enough right?, "but I'll give you a chance. If you're even serious about all of this, but even if you're not, it's free pizza so I can't complain." And he had to be pretty dedicated to a pretty shitty prank to go through all of that, not to mention the fact that he'd always been sort of...flirtatious since they'd met, so all signs pointed to: dead serious.

"Free?!" Wade looped an arm around his waist and tugged him out of the door. Peter had to use a little force to get him to stop, reminding him that he was actually responsible and needed to lock the shop before he left. Wade just grunted and barely loosened his grip. "I mean yeah I'm serious but Jesus, don't gotta be a moocher."

"Yes, free," he combated. "You said date, you asked me on a date, that means you pay," he teased in a singsong voice, sort of surprised by how good of a mood he was in.

Wade grunted and pulled him closer, practically dragging him down the street, and it was a good thing Peter rarely used his car because it would've been left behind and likely towed had he driven to work that day. "Okay, fine, I'll pay, but only 'cause I wanna do this right. But really, after that performance, you should be paying me."

Peter stole a glance up at his face, trying to read the expression and unable to find an ounce of sarcasm or insincerity there. He was really all for this, wasn't he? Well, it couldn't hurt to try. What's the worst that could happen? Things could go horribly and they'd go back to their typical love-hate banter? Ohhhh, the horror. He grinned and breathed softly in an amused way, nudging Wade with his whole body. "Score! Hey, my payment for...all of that," he waved his hand to emphasize his meaning, "is actually agreeing to this date." And, apparently, Wade couldn't argue with that, because his only response was a rather displeased sounding grunt at losing his ground in this debate. 

Suddenly, this wasn't seeming so bad. He was actually, well, sort of happy, and looking forward to the night ahead. But dammit, he'd missed that golden hour all in favour of a blow job and free pizza. Although..that was more than a fair trade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Don't worry, you can creep on their date in the next chapter.  
> 


	3. Peter and Pizza: The Perfect Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _ Wade had reached across the table and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for a surprisingly chaste kiss. No teeth, no tongue, and while Peter had actually grown to like that (more than he cared to admit), he was definitely okay with this as well. Just a soft pressure, Wade's scarred lips still stretched in some mixture of a smirk and a grin as he lingered. Well, he sort of lingered. Part of that was that Peter had, subconsciously apparently, because his mind was about ten steps ahead of him when it came to figuring this whole thing out, wrapped his hand around the back of Wade's head and held him there for a moment longer than he perhaps would have stayed without the encouragement.  _   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I interrupt your regularly scheduled smut to bring you some fluff. 

It was actually kind of surprising, how civil Wade managed to keep himself. Usually he was loud and boisterous and irritating, and okay, he was still talking a lot and making some less than savory remarks, but.. At the same time, he'd managed to keep his hands at least mostly to himself other than that one little "accidental" graze of his ass and, well, the events that had led up to them actually being here. The worst he'd done since they'd gotten to the pizza parlour (which actually turned out to be quaint, kind of charming- an actual dine in place rather than some shady delivery to his apartment, which was what Peter had expected) was to occasionally glide his leg over Peter's ankle, toss out a wink and a suggestive remark every now and then. 

When they first walked in, Peter had taken a moment to look around and admire the small, cozy space that somehow seemed pretty perfect for a casual date. Not too expensive but definitely nice for a place of its price range, dim lighting but not so dim that you'd expect middle aged couples holed away in corners to be mooning over each other and a bottle of wine, and the staff definitely seemed friendly and energetic, welcoming them like they'd been lifelong customers whom they'd come to consider part of the family. Which, actually, didn't seem all that farfetched, because he couldn't help but over hear when the manager greeted Wade, sweeping past them and whispering "That's the one, eh? Not bad, Wilson, not bad," which sort of made him suppress a nervous chuckle and fiddle with his sleeves, hoping the yellowed lights were hiding the dust of pink blooming on the apples of his cheeks. 

That had been a while ago though, and now they were sitting with a half eaten pizza between them as Peter took another bite. Part of him was surprised that Wade hadn't eaten the rest of the food already, breadsticks included, but it was probably due to the fact that, while he was talking less than usual, he was still managing to talk at a staggering rate. At least for Peter, considering he didn't do much talking really. So maybe it was actually a good thing that Wade could seemingly talk for days on end, even if Peter couldn't always keep up with the topic changes or understand what he was talking about, and sometimes it was hard to tell if he was actually talking to him or to himself and the brunette would get lost in his own thoughts or sheer amusement at how Wade's eyes lit up when he got into the story, the fondness of his voice when he recalled a particularly pleasant memory. Which...was apparently what was happening now, because--

"--and that was when I took the goat and ran, but that fuckin' spork was still stuck in my leg and it-- uh...Pete? Hello? Earth to Pete, ya still with me bud?" Wade asked, waving a slice of pizza before shoving half of it in his mouth.

Peter cleared his throat and sniffed, blinking rapidly for a moment. "What? Yeah, sorry I'm listening, I just..got kinda distracted, is all." The fact that he was having a good time (a great time, really), kind of threw him off guard and made it kind of hard for his mind to focus on anything other than how he could have ever missed that he enjoyed listening to Wade's rough voice, liked the way he said whatever was on his mind and didn't seem to care about what anybody else said or thought. Then again, with as many tattoos covering your skin as he had, the public opinion couldn't really have been high up on his list of priorities, assuming that list even existed. But...that brought up another question. Some people had a sort of addiction to the mark, to the feeling of the needle on their skin and the thought of their body being a canvas to convey a message that was too strong to speak with words. But Wade...Wade didn't seem that way. The more and more Peter examined the ink settled on the other's skin, the more he saw that they seemed to each hold some weight and significance, like he thought of them more as a natural part of his skin and his history, a necessity rather than a commodity. And well, with Peter being the curious person that he was, he couldn't help but ask, cutting Wade off in the middle of some other story that involved a trip to the Himalayas and an oversized catheter (seriously, what did he do in his spare time?). "So-- uh, sorry, I just...What's up with all the tattoos? Not that I don't think they're awesome, but, I was just wondering. You know, why so many, what do they mean, they normal stuff." And honestly, it would've been surprising that he hadn't thought to ask earlier, if it hadn't been for the fact that he'd spent the majority of their acquaintanceship under the impression that he hated him, irrevocably. Oops.

He was really glad that he wasn't entirely sold on this idea yet, because there was every possibility that he had just completely blown any chance that they'd ever had. He could actually pinpoint the exact moment that Wade's expression changed, did a complete 180, and that..well, that was never really a good sign. That sparkle sort of faded from his blue eyes (which, Peter had to admit were actually pretty stunning whenever he could bring himself to make eye contact) and something much darker, much sadder replaced it, the corners of his mouth fighting to stay in that wide grin (also stunning, for the record), and Peter's heart sank to think that he could've caused that. "Hey, listen, you don't have to--"  
he tried to take it back, voice sounding a little more rushed and panicky than he would've liked, but Wade only rolled his eyes and hushed him with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Look, Pete, I'll tell ya if ya really wanna know. But I'm warning you now, ya might not like what you hear, so here's a free chance to back the hell out, which is totally cool, not gonna blame ya. There's just one condition if I'm gonna tell you, okay? Just, try not to freak out or anything."

Peter nodded and took a sip of his soda, brow furrowing. That wasn't sounding good, and in his experience, if there was a condition stapled to the front of a story, it was rarely the kind of story that was suitable for bed time stories or first dates with semi-sort-of-potential prospects, probably. What really bothered him, though, was the fact that he had to preface it at all. That meant that there was a definite chance that he'd been open and trusting enough to share this before, and had obviously gotten some less than desirable results, which made him both incredibly sad and determined to punch every one of those people in whatever part of them would hurt the most. 

"Alright, well, see, thing is, uh...few years back, I was sort..well I had cancer, ya know? So, uh, they kinda tried a few things out, and most of it just wasn't doin' the trick. Help for a while, then BAM, right back to where I was. So eventually I said fuck it and tried out some experimental stuff, played the guinea pig and got paid to be some lab's bitch for a while. Good news: hey, it worked, don't have cancer anymore. Bad news (and this is the part where I can totally understand if you wanna like hurl and call it off, but if you could not puke on me that'd be great): I got all these gnarly scars from it, like, all over. So I figured, tattoos would cover 'em up and look pretty cool, so.." he trailed off with a shrug, a little bit of his old expression returning, but Peter could tell that this wasn't something he was entirely comfortable with, and he could see why. But the scars...they didn't seem that bad, definitely explained why his skin felt so coarse against Peter's, but he couldn't see why anyone would be repulsed by them. Definitely not to the point that they should do something as drastic as Wade was suggesting.

He tried his best to keep up appearances, not look like he'd just gained a personal vendetta against an unknown number of people that he'd never met. And he felt like he mostly succeeded really, especially when Wade's smile grew just a bit more. He liked to think that was his doing, thank you very much. "Wade, Jesus, no, that's awesome." Shit, he was fumbling over his words like an absolute idiot, not that that was anything knew. "I mean, not the part about the cancer, the part about you being okay now and having all of those tattoos, I mean, that's...wow, thanks."

"Thanks?" Wade raised a brow in question, but the longer that Peter went without some sort of outrageously exaggerated dramatics, the more that old look returned to his face, and he absolutely loved it. 

"For telling me," he clarified. "I mean, you didn't have to, you could've told me to fuck off. But I'm uh..I'm glad you didn't." He couldn't really help the warm smile that crept up on him just then, especially when the manager waltzed by again, and he definitely noticed that look he gave them, thanks for that. As if he wasn't feeling awkward enough, it was like the entire staff was silently watching, rooting for them, and that was kind of..um, well, creepy came to mind. He puffed a breathy laugh and grabbed a slice of pizza, reaching to bring it to his mouth, but he was abruptly cut off with a slight startled noise.

Wade had reached across the table and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for a surprisingly chaste kiss. No teeth, no tongue, and while Peter had actually grown to like that (more than he cared to admit), he was definitely okay with this as well. Just a soft pressure, Wade's scarred lips still stretched in some mixture of a smirk and a grin as he lingered. Well, he sort of lingered. Part of that was that Peter had, subconsciously apparently, because his mind was about ten steps ahead of him when it came to figuring this whole thing out, wrapped his hand around the back of Wade's head and held him there for a moment longer than he perhaps would have stayed without the encouragement. 

"Mm, much as I like your mouth bein' busy with mine, if ya don't shove some pizza in there it's gonna get cold," he mumbled against Peter's lips, but it really sounded more like he was saying it for the brunette's benefit and couldn't have cared any less himself if they stayed there all night. That, though-- that was when Peter had realised what his hand had done without his consent, and his eyes widened slightly as he broke free. 

"Ha, yeah, you're right. This is awesome pizza, hate to see it go to waste. Uh, thanks, by the way. For ya know, buying it," he said, maybe a little rushed, before he took a long drink and a rather large bite. 

Wade just laughed and took another bite of his own slice, nearly finishing it off, and speaking around the mouthful. Well, he'd let that one slide for now. "Don't mention it. Like you said, my idea, I should pay. No big deal."

It was growing to the point of ridiculous, how much Peter was enjoying himself. He was nothing but smiles and laughter for the entire remainder of their date, even joining in with the secretive looks tossed out by the members of the staff and making loud, occasionally crude jokes with his date. He was seriously going to have to reevaluate his opinion of the guy. Especially given the fact that he left a rather hefty tip and was a complete gentleman, insisting on walking Peter back to his apartment, not taking no for an answer. Okay, actually, he saw how that could come across as a bit sketchy, but he was still dancing off the near high that such a pleasant night had left him, so he was pretty well focused on how nice it was, considering. When they finally did get to his complex (which, in all reality, didn't take that long because he lived relatively close), Wade tightened the grip that his arm had apparently found around Peter's waist on the way there without him noticing (man, he needed to work on his observation skills), halting him in front of the building's entrance. 

"Admit it, you had a fuckin' great time tonight, didn't ya?" he asked with that fucking impish look that made Peter smile in response without fail, that damn glint in his eye as he wrapped his other arm around him.

Peter played it up more than he maybe should have, sighing heavily and rolling his eyes. He was still reluctant to admit that yeah, okay, this was probably the best time he'd had in a while and it all happened to be thanks to Wade fucking Wilson. But that was understandable, right? "Yeah, I guess it was pretty okay," he teased, playfully punching him on the arm, which was actually quite difficult from his current position. 

"Told ya," Wade crooned, leaning in to kiss Peter fully on the lips. And yeah...okay, maybe he responded a little too eagerly for someone who was still entirely convinced that he hated the man whose lips felt so good against his own. He stood on the balls of his feet to be able to lean in further, deepening the kiss. Wade seemed to like that, his arms tightening around Peter's waist to haul him up just a little bit more. He sighed into the kiss,allowing himself to melt into it with a slightly harder pressure, and it was almost embarrassing how fast he escalated into a much more urgent, searching thing, hands cupping Wade's face as he pressed his tongue past his lips, evoking a soft noise of approval from him and--

And then suddenly, he was gaping at the air like a complete moron, Wade having pulled away but still staring at him like he couldn't believe that had just happened but desperately wanted more. He shook his head, though, clearing the webs of want from his mind and smiled again, pinching Peter's chin between his thumb and index finger and leaning in for a much lighter, more innocent kiss, grinning as he pulled away. "Look, not gonna lie, I'd love to take ya upstairs and do unspeakably dirty things to ya that you've probably never even heard of, but here's the thing. I actually like you, man. Kind of a lot. So I'm gonna do this the right way, alright? Adios, hombre," he said, waving as he turned on his heel to whistle his way down the sidewalk toward his own apartment.

Peter's fingers found their way to his lips, chuckling at himself for how completely his mind had been changed. Wade liked him. Actually, liked him, apparently, and judging by the turning of his stomach and that annoying tingle left lingering on his lips, he had a feeling he was falling for it too. Hard.

Shit.


	4. Brought to You by the Word: Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> _He scoffed at the look he was given in return, because really, with the way Wade’s brow was cocked and his head slightly lowered, eyes wide, he felt like some absolute moron. Like Wade thought he was the most idiotic person to grace this planet with his stunning vapidity._  
>     
>  _With a sigh, Wade just rolled his eyes and smirked, offering the ever slightest shake of his head. “A date, Pete. This is a date. Er..another date. Dinner and a movie, ya know?”_  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this chapter.

The rest of the week had gone by quickly, had been pretty busy at that. It was always like that; the beginning of the week was like one endless day, and the last couple of days flew by in a blur. People finally getting paid, or having time, or getting drunk and making poor decisions regarding mostly permanent marks on their skin. Ahh, fun times. 

Peter had barely even gotten time to talk to Wade at all, and was pretty surprised to see that he was hard at work as well, almost making a visible effort to keep his distance. Peter could tell he hadn't lost his interest or determination though, considering the looks they shared as they buzzed around the shop, the few comments they actually had the time to toss out. It was good in a way, really, that they hadn't had much interaction. It gave him time to think, to mull things over in his mind and really come to terms with the fact that Wade was actually kind of a great guy once you got to know him and he should seriously think about giving him a chance. Maybe, on some level, Wade knew that he needed time and was actively trying to give him some space. Jesus, Peter was starting to think that he really had underestimated him. 

Still, despite their lack of contact for the most part, he hadn't gotten as much time as he would've liked to think coherently given how busy he'd been in the shop, so he was glad to have the weekend off. He could think and relax, wow, what a concept.

He chuckled to himself at the thought as he nestled into the cushions of his couch, flicking through the channels even though there was never anything on and he would likely have to resort to Netflix to get his fix of mindless drivel. But of course, just as he managed to find a comfortable position and finally rest his aching body after a particularly taxing shift, there was a knock at his door. Which was..weird. Very weird, actually. Since he'd moved into the place he hadn't had a single rap-rap-rapping at his chamber door. Well, aside from that one time when that sweet little old lady came by looking for an Ethel Trillet, but that didn't really count since it technically hadn't been for him (although she had stayed for a cup of tea and shared some stories; apparently she and Ethel were quite the rebels in their glory days). 

Here was hoping that it was another wrong address, because he was definitely not in any shape to play the host right now. He'd come home from work sore and exhausted, trudged into the bedroom to pull on a pair of sweats and a rather tattered t-shirt before raiding the refrigerator for a beer, some of which had sloshed onto his pants with his first sip. Sighing, he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and groaned as he rose to his feet, shuffling over to answer the door. 

"Wade? What--" Of course, he was cut off not long after he pulled the door open, barely had a second to quirk a brow and shoot his colleague a puzzled look before he barrelled past him, a bag in each hand, and into the apartment, looking the place over before dumping his cargo rather unceremoniously onto Peter's coffee table. 

"Nice digs," he said simply, that seemingly permanent smirk still plastered to his face. Heh, maybe it was a tattoo. ..And that was exactly why Peter was the only person who found himself funny. Except maybe Wade, but he was still rather convinced that that was just a ploy to get into his pants.  
Speaking of his pants, he felt suddenly even more embarrassed about his ragtag appearance, wishing he'd had the foresight to clean up at least a little. But to be fair, he hadn't been expecting company, never did. Never really had a reason to, except on those rare occasions his aunt would phone him and say she was dropping by for a visit, which didn't happen often enough really. 

He sniffed and shifted on his feet, playing the good host and fetching his guest a beer from the fridge, not bothering to ask since the answer would inevitably be yes. “Uh, thanks,” he replied, sort of distracted by his own thoughts. “Okay, so, what are you doing here and what’s in those bags?” he asked, tossing the beer to his comrade and nodding toward the bags rested on his counter.

Wade caught the can easily, pressing his thumb to the side of the can and popping the tab as he sunk into the couch and made himself right at home, feet propped up on the table. “Food and movies,” he explained, pointing to the bags respectively. “Didn’t really know what ya’d be in the mood for, so I kinda just brought a little o’ everything. That goes for the grub and the flicks.” He cleared his throat and downed a decent portion of his drink, sighing in appreciation when he pulled the metal away from his lips. 

“Okay,” Peter drawled, circling around the table to slump onto the sofa, allowing Wade his room, though. “That answers one of my questions; care to share the rest with the class?” He smirked and took a sip of his own beer, leaned on the armrest with an elbow sticking slightly off the side.

He scoffed at the look he was given in return, because really, with the way Wade’s brow was cocked and his head slightly lowered, eyes wide, he felt like some absolute moron. Like Wade thought he was the most idiotic person to grace this planet with his stunning vapidity.

With a sigh, Wade just rolled his eyes and smirked, offering the ever slightest shake of his head. “A date, Pete. This is a date. Er..another date. Dinner and a movie, ya know?”

“Um…don’t you usually ask people about that sort of thing before hand?” Of course anyone would’ve noticed that he wasn’t actually objecting, just…making an observation. But, whatever, they’d had a good time on their last try. Sort of a great time, actually. So he figured maybe he could give it another shot, see if he still enjoyed himself as much and if these…feelings he was developing were real or just some delusion brought on by a skilled mouth and an enjoyable night. Already, though, he could feel his chest growing lighter and his head going slightly giddy, so chances were it wasn’t the latter. He cursed himself mentally, both for being stupid enough to have never noticed earlier and for slipping into it so quickly when those little gears of logic clicked in his mind. That’s how it always is, though, isn’t? Like a fire, starting slow and then consuming everything in its path ‘til everything around it is warm and bright and comforting.

Shit, he really needed to stop waxing poetic and listen to what Wade was trying to say, because he was relatively certain that he’d missed a pretty big chunk of it already. He tuned back in just in time to hear something to the effect of “—with a huge rock and some spray paint, but I figured this was a lot less dramatic, and hey, who can say no to a night of movies and free food, huh?”

Peter just smiled and laughed lightly, licking his lips and leaning over to dig through the bag of food. “Good point. And hey, play your cards right and I might not even kick you out,” he teased, pulling some still warm beef teriyaki with rice in a foil pan, complete with plastic silverware. “Thanks, by the way,” he added, sliding his glasses up with his index finger before shoveling a piece of beef into his mouth.

“Oh, trust me, you won’t be kickin’ me out,” Wade replied with his customary wink, and Peter knew that he was right. Although, surprisingly, that comment seemed to be backed with less innuendo than the usual Wilson retort. It was still there, definitely, but just..toned down, which he supposed was actually kind of sweet in the gambit of Wade’s view of toning it down and playing civil. “C’mon, c’mon. Pick a movie and pop it in.” He reached over, actually avoiding making inappropriate contact (which kind of surprised Peter, because that was sort of his thing, inappropriate contact), to grab some food for himself which looked like tikka masala. Jesus, he really had covered all the bases. 

The fact that he was being such a gentleman, or at least as much of one as he could probably bring himself to be, actually made Peter stop and think for a second. Maybe he really was trying to do this the ‘right way,’ like he’d suggested on their last date (yes, date, just accept it, Parker). The words had been ringing through his head since that night, making him wonder what the right way was, exactly, and causing him to sincerely reconsider how serious Wade may have been about this. Because, yeah, okay, maybe at first he’d taken it for a joke, so sue him. It wasn’t like Wilson was really known for his ability to take anything seriously. 

“Okay, okay, Jesus,” he replied with a sort of chuckle, exaggerating a groan of effort as he rose to his feet to examine the choices. He definitely noticed the subtle way that Wade’s eyes wandered slightly, couldn’t help a small smile when he saw him visibly struggle to rip himself away, especially when Peter’s shirt shifted just so to expose the thinnest strip of skin along his torso. Okay, yeah, maybe he was enjoying that just a little too much, because it was way too hard to stifle a laugh when Wade cleared his throat and a disgruntled look settled over his features, trying hard to keep his gaze focused ahead and not on Peter’s body. 

He flipped through the selection, honestly not caring what was on the television at this point. How were you supposed to properly have a date when the two of you were too absorbed in a movie to speak. Well, at least he would be. It was sort of a rule with him that when he was trying to watch something there was to be no talking to interrupt, and he sort of didn’t see Wade adhering to that too well. So, he picked something that looked mildly interesting but not enough so to hold his interest entirely and popped it in the player.

While he was perusing the selection, he’d heard Wade mumbling quietly to himself, but nothing that he could make out, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. He’d noticed this before, these private little conversations, and any time someone asked he seemed to get uncomfortable and brush it off with nervous laughter and a self-deprecating joke, so Peter steered clear of opening that can of worms, especially on a date where he was, yes, okay, actually trying to make a good impression. Not that he really had a feeling that he needed to be making an impression of any kind, but that was beside the point. 

When he turned back toward the couch, he noticed that Wade had draped his arm over the back of the couch, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. Whether it was an intentional set up or not, it opened the perfect opportunity to express interest without actually having to say anything, because he had a feeling that that would turn into a blathering trainwreck of a conversation, so no thank you. Instead, he strolled back over and took a seat, much closer this time, still a couple of inches between them but well within reach of Wade’s arm. He could see the ghost of that smile that always made his chest bubble over forming on the other’s mouth as that arm slid down and tentatively rested on his shoulders. Peter nestled into the touch just a bit, just to assure him that yeah, that was okay and maybe he actually sort of really liked having his arm around him, especially with the way a thumb was softly brushing up and down his arm.

“So, whatcha pick?” Wade asked, clearing his throat again, and that was how Peter could tell he wasn’t paying any attention either, because the title of some d-list martial arts flick from what was probably the 80s had just flashed across the screen. He wasn’t entirely sure if food and movies were Wade’s real motive for being here, but he was doing a good job of making that a believable idea. 

“Flying Monkey, Ducking…something. Probably duck.” He chuckled and reached over for another bite of food, Wade eyeing his own, but Peter could see the internal debate being waged on his face, and had a feeling that he knew exactly what those thoughts were. He wanted the food, he always wanted food. It was Wade. But at the same time, that would’ve required the use of both hands for proper eating etiquette, and he was way too content having his arm right there around Peter’s shoulders. In the end, the latter won out and his stomach would have to wait until he was good and ready to move from this spot. 

Wade’s eyes lit up, flicking to the screen before turning back to settle on Peter once again. “Oh, sweet, actually a pretty badass movie, ever seen it? There’s this one part where Jackie Li, like, rips this guy’s arm off and makes him put it—“

“Wade. Stop. For one thing that sounds disgusting and brutal all at once, and for another thing, no spoiling the movie,” he replied with a little smirk, jabbing him gently in the ribs with his elbow. Not that he actually planned on watching it much anyway, but still. Spoilers. Not a fan. He shifted in his seat so that he was facing him a little more directly, brought one leg onto the couch and folded it so that his ankle rested on the opposite thigh, one hand on his ankle. 

Wade had started babbling again, and this time he actually sort of paid attention, but mostly to the passion in his voice, the way that his face lit up and he tried desperately to only involve one hand in his usual frantic gestures as he spoke. He had originally been talking more about the movie (for which Peter was sort of glad that he’d tuned out), but that quickly slipped into another long anecdote about his crazy misadventures, and Peter just couldn’t get enough of those. It wasn’t always his fault that he couldn’t pay attention, you know. Especially when Wade did such a good job of distracting him by being so goddamn adorable, and Peter was kind of disgusted with himself for acting like such a schoolgirl with a stupid crush. But he just couldn’t help staring at his face, watching his eyes get wide with excitement and his entire face practically fucking glow when he really got into the stories.

Yeah, okay, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Wade,” he said, maybe just a little more harshly than he’d meant, but hey, he needed to get his attention and that had done the job pretty nicely. “Just..just stop talking, just for one damn minute.” He cupped Wade’s face between his hands to make sure he wouldn’t burst out into another round of chatter (although he had his doubts that anything could stop that if he really wanted to say something), and leaned in quickly for a kiss.

He meant for it just to be a quick thing, really, he did, but..well, things don’t always go as planned. Truth be told, he liked the feeling of it. He liked it a lot, and the surprise burned a little crease in his brow and made him kiss a little deeper, put just a little more pressure on those chapped lips that sent shivers down his spine every time Wade moved them against his own. And wow, he was actually doing that, he was kissing back, and that was amazing, because for once, neither one of them was pushing for this to blossom into something more, and everything about that went straight to Peter’s chest, heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon with a heavy dose of caffeine. Sure, Wade’s hands had found their way to his hips and were weighing sort of heavy there, but there was nothing behind that, no urgent need to pull him close and—okay, he needed to stop that train of thought because he was trying to enjoy a sort of sweet moment here and for once he was the one whose mind was running rampant. Although he wouldn’t be surprised if Wade’s was as well, but he was doing a rather good job of holding himself down if that was the case.

Wade grinned and hummed against his lips just before they broke apart, a sort of mutual thing, thumbs circling softly where they sat. “Whoa,” he breathed. “That was, uh..that was pretty awesome. The fuck did that come from, anyway?” 

Peter sort of..well, it was sort of an amused sounding cough, would be the only way he could describe it. Not quite a laugh, but with the same meaning. That meaning being, “Yeah, awesome is definitely what I would call that.” His eyes flicked over Wade’s face, pleased with what he saw there. A little bit of disbelief mingled with a whole fucking lot of ‘holy shit could I be any happier right now?’. Yes, Wade. Yes you could. Because the next words from Peter’s mouth were, “It was..maybe we could…Okay, I’m..willing to give this a shot. You know, if you are. I’m not saying it has to be, like, an…official or permanent thing or anything, we don’t have to have labels or whatever, but…well, you already made your interest pretty clear, unless this is all some really elaborate prank, in which case I will actually kill you. And I think, maybe…maybe you were right, maybe I do kind of..like you.” He sounded like he was in middle school, prattling on and phrasing it that way, but, well, he didn’t know how else to say it. A schoolgirl phrase for a schoolgirl crush, it seemed fitting. 

For a second, he thought maybe he’d gone on rambling for too long, lost Wade somewhere along the way or just completely fucking said the wrong thing because he was uncharacteristically silent. It probably only lasted a couple of seconds but it felt like a couple of years, his heart pounding uneasy in his chest as his eyes darted frantically around for any sort of reassurance. He was just about to panic, take back everything he had ever said and feel free to forget that they had ever even known each other, right when Wade locked them in a kiss so abruptly and with so much excited force behind it that they sort of toppled backward onto the couch, Peter nestled below a much more solid body. Hey, at least they didn’t hit the floor because that could’ve hurt. 

“You’re serious right?” Wade asked, breaking the kiss suddenly with a wild fear in his eyes. “Because if you’re not then I’m pretty sure I have to quit my jobs and move out of the country so that I never have to remember that this happened.” 

“Wade, shut up and keep kissing,” he replied, voice a little gruff but a smile on his lips as he pulled him back down. Their lips massaged against each other, Peter’s hands roving over Wade’s sides and back as the other was grinning so wide into the kiss he thought his mouth might actually break.

“God, this is…this is the best fucking night ever,” Wade said when they finally broke the kiss, a little breathless. Peter stared at him for a moment, sort of disappointed in the lack of kissing, but the look on Wade’s face more than made up for it. Smooth, adorable, sexy, hot as hell Wade, and suddenly, he was, in some ways, Peter’s smooth, adorable, sexy, hot as hell Wade, and that made him grin widely in return, his chest jumping like his ribs wanted so badly to break free from the rest of his body.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty fucking good night,” he agreed with a nod, leaning up for another quick kiss. An actual quick kiss, this time. “We’re actually…we’re doing this, aren’t we?”

Wade returned the kiss, still all smiles with his excitement practically oozing from his pores as he grabbed Peter and hauled him up so that they were both sitting again. Peter, however, took the advantage of being freed to rest his head in Wade’s lap and drape his feet over the opposite arm of the sofa, glancing up at him as a hand carded through his hair, causing him to shut his eyes. “Yeah, we are,” was the reply, with a small kiss planted on his forehead.

It was well into the night (after a few failed attempts to actually watch a movie, a lot of kissing involved and some heavy petting that stopped short of anything, surprisingly, at Wade’s insistence; he was still convinced that now that he had Peter hooked, moving too fast could mess up any chance he may have had at making it work) before Peter started slowly drifting to sleep. It was Wade’s head in his lap now, and he must have been spending a good time staring at him to notice that his eyes were slowly closing and his head lolling to the side. Well, either that or Peter had just stopped responding, but he preferred to think it was the former. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, rising to his feet and stretching with a grunt. “I’mma get goin’ home. It’s like, quarter past two and you’re fallin’ asleep on me,” he added with a small smile, placing another kiss on Peter’s forehead and squeezing gently at his side. Peter must have been more tired than he realized, because when he opened his eyes fully (trying and failing to prove that he was wide awake), the television was off and the food tucked safely in the fridge. He was sort of afraid to open it in the morning and see exactly how everything managed to fit, but that was a different story. 

He cursed under a yawn and stood as well, stretching with his hands above his head before rubbing a hand across his face. “Yeah, you’re right, but you don’t have to go, you know. You can sleep here.”  
Wade glanced at the couch and back to Peter, leaning in for another kiss like neither of them could get enough. Which, honestly, was probably true enough. “Long as you got some blankets and a pillow I can use out here, ‘cause, I gotta tell ya. It’s pretty cold.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Peter mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep. He yawned again as he grabbed Wade’s hand and tugged him into the bedroom, gently nudging him to crawl under the covers and enjoy a good night’s rest in the warm bed.

He didn’t seem to have much complaint about that, although, he did look around quickly, eyes finally settling back on Peter’s face in the dim blue lighting flooding in from outside. “Hey, can’t say I’m gonna turn down that offer, but, uh, didn’t bring any pyjamas, and I doubt you got any that fit me. If ya hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly an extra small like some people,” he teased.

“Jackass,” Peter replied, nudging him slightly. “You wouldn’t find any, anyway. I don’t use them.” A wicked smirk crossed his features as he stripped down to his boxers and slid into bed, practically groaning at how soft the mattress was, how welcoming for his tired body.

Without protest, Wade followed suit and crawled beneath the covers, tugging at Peter so that the brunette was sprawled over his chest, arm tucked neatly at his side. It didn’t take long for both of them to drift off, between the excitement of the day and the warmth surrounding them. Somewhere, though, before he fell asleep, in the back of his mind, Peter couldn’t help but think that he could get used to this. Very used to it, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, you'll get your smut soon.   
>  _Edit:_ Fixed some weird stuff that happened with the pasting. Sorry about that.


	5. Barroom Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _This time, it was Wade's turn to tell Peter to shut up. They were both sort of expecting it now, too, the weight of it and urgency and absolute need. Wade stood up and tugged Peter out of his seat along with him, reluctantly taking another pause. "We should we you home," he panted, and Peter couldn't help but agree._   
> 

Morning seemed like forever ago. Peter had woken up alone, terrified that Wade had changed his mind now, without the thrill of the chase, and proceeded to mentally freak the fuck out until his new...um..was there really an accurate word for what they were? Probably not. Regardless of their terminology, he'd shown up in the doorway with enough types of coffee to fuel a small army. There were a lot of questions that arose from that (how had Wade managed to get his ass up earlier than noon for that but not for work? How did he get back in, leaving the door unlocked? If so, how illegal would it really be for Peter to kill him?), but he was thankful all the same, taking a black coffee from the bunch only to receive a dismayed look from his counterpart, who'd gone through all the trouble to have his efforts scorned for the most boring of morning beverages. 

That had been hours ago, though. Once he'd finished his coffee Wade had practically forced him into the shower (and tried to join him, to which Peter promptly shoved him out and locked the bathroom door, only having to deal with wailing protests for a minute or two before Wade crawled away defeated) an rushed him to get dressed so that they didn't "waste a minute of this goddamn motherfucking beautiful piece of ass Mother Nature called Saturday" (Wilson, 2013). He'd spent the rest of the day being dragged everywhere around the city until he thought his feet might bleed. But he had to admit, he sort of saw the city in a new light when he roamed around with Wade. He had such a unique perspective, even the most familiar things seemed foreign and exciting when he ran his mouth about them. Peter was even getting used to the volumes he could speak without wanting to rip his head of for never shutting his damn mouth. 

Finally, just when he thought his legs would rebel and simply refuse to keep moving, Wade had spotted a seedy looking bar and insisted they stopped by for a drink, and Peter was all about that. So now here they were, Wade spinning on a stool as they say at the counter. It was actually a pretty friendly place inside, all warm lighting and wooden walls and welcoming waiters. They were both on their fourth drink, but Peter was proving to be sort of a lightweight. Embarrassingly so. But hey, it wasn't like he drank often, and he was about half Wade's size, so he did not appreciate those snarky looks and ill-concealed snickers, thanks. 

"Stop looking at me like that," he grumbled, the words a little rushed as he slapped lamely at Wade's arm. Of course, that only had the effect of widening that cocky grin and making him chuckle. He did ruffle Peter's hair, though, which felt pretty great, so..score. 

"Like what?!" Wade practically huffed in response, feigning indignation like it was his job. 

Peter just rolled his eyes and leaned over to nudge him, a little too far because it ended up being less nudging more..steadying himself for support, but he was pretty sure he got the point across. "Like I'm a dumbass lightweight and it's just so hilarious when I make an idiot out of myself," he explained. 

"Ohhh, like that," he chimed, puffing out a laugh and looking Peter over in a much different way. He caught his chin between his fingers, leaned down for a kiss and, well, maybe it was the alcohol, but maybe Peter was just finally thinking clearly, because something seemed to snap into place the moment their lips touched. 

Wade smelled like bourbon from his drinks and leather from his jacket, tasted like cigarettes and just a hint of cinnamon, and if there hadn't something more behind it that alone probably would have kept him there, drinking in everything those coarse lips had to offer. There was just that little extra, though. That little spark that traveled from his lips to the base of his spine, back up to the top of his head and made his hairs stand on end because wow, this is what he'd been missing. This kiss, sure, but the past few days and everything that had led up to it, and he was pretty damn sure that he was over passing up the best opportunity of his life. And the best blow jobs. Okay, maybe that part was the alcohol. 

Peter leaned into the kiss a little more, grappling onto Wade's shoulders for support but also for a little extra leverage. It was obvious that he'd been just as surprised by how suddenly it had grown so much deeper as Peter had; for a moment he'd just stilled against his lips, not expecting the kiss to go on before sliding his hands around a slim waist, gliding one up to the back of a brunette head. 

It was heavy when they broke, Peter inhaling long and slow before he finally found it in him to drag his lips away and speak. Wade didn't move, just let him pull away and stayed his ground, eyes darting under drooping lids across his face, that damn tempting mouth slightly parted in a way that would've been distracting even if he was a little more sober. He could get back to that later, for now he had something to say. 

He cleared his throat, tried to pull himself away but the gravity between them was stronger than his will. "So, this is a thing," he started, flaunting that ever present elegance of phrase. "Like, a real thing. I like it. I mean, I like you, and I'm pretty sure you like me, and I'm glad I figured it out but it sucks that it took so long, you know? But this is..this is good, I want you. I mean I--" thankfully, he was cut off by another kiss before he made an even bigger ass of himself, rambling and babbling and talking himself into a hole too deep to crawl out of. 

This time, it was Wade's turn to tell Peter to shut up. They were both sort of expecting it now, too, the weight of it and urgency and absolute need. Wade stood up and tugged Peter out of his seat along with him, reluctantly taking another pause. "We should get you home," he panted, and Peter couldn't help but agree. 

Well, sort of. They stumbled out the door, his hands clenching bundles of Wade's leather jacket, barely making five steps before he shoved them into an alley, Wade's back hitting the rough brick. He didn't seem to mind, though the most response being a muffled grunt that lost itself down Peter's throat. Somehow, one of his hands released its chokehold on that poor jacket, slid down a set of solid and and pressed into a part of Wade that he had yet to touch (although the opposite sure as hell wasn't true). He hadn't even noticed that the warmth there, the small amount of hardness had made him groan audibly until Wade sucked in a harsh breath and swore beneath it, hips minutely jerking into the touch. 

That only spurred Peter on, though, causing him to nip at cords of muscle that stuck out in the other's neck, bite gently at his throat and savour all the little sounds he got in reply. He squeezed his hand and felt a jump that made him breathe out in amusement in arousal. "God," he whispered, lowering to his knees to press a long kiss to Wade's groin through the fabric of his jeans, beyond pleased with the moan he got for that one. 

"Peter," regret was thick in his voice. "C'mon, baby boy, get up. We gotta getchu home. You're drunk."

"And you're hot, what's your point?" Maybe the extra sarcasm was a defence against how quickly his heart jumped at that nickname, or to cover up how true his statement really was, but either way, he'd come this far. Nothing was going to stop him from going through with it, location and sobriety be damned. Wade had tried to protest again, but it was nothing Peter couldn't quickly stop by undoing the zipper and putting significantly less fabric between hand and cock. For as much determination as Wade had shown for going after Peter, it was surprisingly easy to melt away his resolve on heading to the safety of home. 

He treated him to a few lazy strokes at first, staring at his hand and its contents as he did, etching every detail possible into his quickly sobering mind. The way his skin felt against his palm, the heat of it with the cold night air, the tattoos that littered his stomach and thighs, inky guns in imaginary holsters in his hips. Eventually he sped up his pace, circled his thumb around the head and enjoyed the way every part of Wade was so responsive, hips moving and mouth spewing praise and groans almost constantly. Enough was enough, though. Neither of them were particularly patient men, and Peter didn't plan on stopping with a hand. 

He slowed his strokes, achingly slow for both of them before finally placing his lips against the head of Wade's cock, lapping at the tip and burying a hum of approval in a satisfied sigh. Wade was nowhere near as discrete with the sounds that poured from him, but getting caught was the least of his worries right now. Besides, everything that came from Wade's mouth was incredibly hot, so he was in no mind for it to stop. Slowly he inched his way forward, licking and swirling over every part of him until he had as much as he could take.

Wade's solid heat weighed heavy on his tongue, the taste of skin and salt and pheromones embedding itself into the muscle so that Peter would remember exactly how this felt and tasted and smelled well after they it was over. He could tell that Wade was holding back, his hips twitching with every movement, could feel him growing harder still as he filled his mouth a little more. But Peter would have none of that, none of this restraint that he seemed so intent on, so he slid his hands up those fucking perfect thighs, blunt nails scraping at the skin until they reached his hips and jerked them forward, the damp head of Wade's cocking pressing against the back of his throat. 

He could feel those legs going weak against him, shaking every time he pulled back and surged forward, and if that didn't boost his ego then he was sure that nothing would. Well, maybe except the way Wade's wanton moans grew louder, his hands tangled in Peter's hair as he began to thrust his hips into that warm mouth. Peter absolutely loved this, loved the way he could make him fall apart like Wade had done to him. He hummed around his length, which garnered a particularly enthusiastic response and an erratic thrust of hips. 

"Fucking Christ, Pete. Always so quiet, who'd o' known you'd be so good with your mouth?" It was the first coherent thing he'd heard in a while, and he was pretty pleased with that, so he hummed again and scraped his hands down over Wade's thigh, back up to his hips, and revelled in the sounds he caused. 

With every dip of his head, hollow of his cheeks, swirl if his tongue before sliding straight down the shaft and back up to the head, seemed to make him lose that little bit more control. The pumping of Wade's hips became faster, less rhythmic, and Peter had to fight to keep up with it. He managed, though, somehow quickening his pace to match each time, anchoring his grip on the peaks of hips a little more. He was surprised at how long Wade held out, actually, probably trying to drag this out as long as possible, given how long he'd waited. But Peter's throat was getting tired, feeling sort of raw, and from all those sounds he'd bet Wade's was, too. So, he took him in to the hilt, down his throat, hummed and swallowed. Did it again when he got an incredibly goddamn hot moan, just a couple more times, locking himself in place until Wade finally came, nearly screaming, and okay maybe now he was a little worried about getting caught. 

He swallowed it all down with ease, cleaning the rest from Wade's cock with his tongue before releasing him from his mouth, rising to his feet. He wasn't going to make Wade kiss him after that, not going to force him to taste himself, but he didn't seem to care, pulling Peter in for a deep kiss with a breathless laugh. 

"Damn, Pete. I don't even think I got words for that, and that's sayin' something...well, I mean it's not, but it is, and basically wow. Just wow. That was fanfuckingtastic. I think that might actually be what unicorns are made of."

Peter just laughed and kissed him again, slumping against Wade slumping against the wall. "Thanks," he muttered, a stupidly large grin stretched across his face as he kissed his chest and Wade tucked himself back into his pants. "You know, I meant what I said in there. I don't care how drunk I am. Was. Whatever."

There was a moment of skeptical silence before Wade squeezed an arm around his shoulders, peeled them from the wall and started them back to Peter's apartment. "Catch me when you're sober, then we'll talk," he said, a practised casual tone to his voice. 

"Almost there," Peter rebutted. "We get back, you make me a cup of coffee, and I'll say it all again. Stone cold sober. And maybe a little more..ah..eloquently," he added with a laugh. "Deal?"

Wade seemed to consider for a moment, but eventually agreed with a quiet "Deal."

It wouldn't take them long to get back, they'd already been on the way when they ran into the bar. Part of him was afraid to admit it again, afraid that whatever issue Wade seemed to have would break beneath the weight of his words and all of this would be for nothing. But another, larger part was basking in this newfound truth, and eager to say it all again. Hey, he'd convinced himself, he could convince that stubborn jackass. Right? He smiled to himself as they headed home, arm in arm and hip to hip, and wondered how he ever could have doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise better quality and more plot soon. I just kinda needed this. 


	6. Deal or No Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> _“Okay,” Peter replied, rushing in to kiss him again, because, honestly, how could he not?_  
>   
> 
>   
> “Promise?”  
>  
> 
>   
>   
> _He couldn’t help a small chuckle at how adamant Wade was being, but it showed his genuine interest, that he was really going to try, and how could he be annoyed about that? “Promise,” he muttered._

It was spring, but the evening air was still pretty chilly. Enough to drain the bit of a buzz Peter still had as they walked back to his apartment, effectively sobering him up. And every day got just a little bit longer; long enough that dusk was still settling over the city on their way. He hadn’t really had time to appreciate the small things like that lately, like his favourite time of day or the way his first cup of morning coffee smelled, or that first touch of the needle to his clients skin, the way it pulled the ink across their canvas like it was there all along and he was dusting off the long forgotten marks. But now, he was maybe playing up his inebriated state just a little bit, stumbling and stuttering and holding Wade close to slow them down, because, well..this was perfect. The dusty purple of the sky fading into orange and black, the lights flickering on in building after building and the neons throwing a ruddy cast on the streets beneath them. He used to think there was no better way to savour that moment than alone with a board beneath his feet, but he was quickly finding that a bit of company could be even better.

Even with all of his efforts to slow them down, they still managed to make their way to his place relatively quickly. Peter fumbled with the key to his apartment (which, actually, wasn’t intentional; he was just kind of incredibly clumsy when it came to anything that didn’t involve permanently marking people’s skin. That or physics, because…well, boom, as he learned the hard way), finally jamming it into the lock and probably not making a very good argument for his “yes, Wade, I happen to be completely sober, thank you,” case. Wade seemed perfectly content to practically skip his way to the couch and plop down with something that sort of resembled a smile on his face, but that wouldn’t do. Not right now. Peter had something to say, dammit, and if he didn’t suck it up and do it now, chances were he never would. So, he took in a deep breath, tossed his keys to the side (shit he really hoped he could find those later), and positioned himself squarely onto Wade’s lap, not getting distracted for even a moment by how great the muscles of his hips felt pressed against his thighs, no sir.

“Pete, I—“

Of course, Peter shut him up quickly, throwing a hand over his mouth, the cup of coffee Wade had promised him long lost to the back of his mind. Probably not the most graceful method he could have chosen, but hey, he needed his mouth. If he would’ve used that instead he would’ve gotten caught up and, well…things probably would not have gone how he needed them to at that point. “Shut it,” he instructed, and was kind of surprised by how authoritative his voice sounded. Wade was, too, if the way his eyes widened just a fraction was any indication. “Look, Wade. I’ve got some stuff to say, and if I don’t say it now, I’m afraid I never will, and I need you to listen, okay? Really listen. I sat here so you wouldn’t move, do I need to keep my hand there so you won’t talk until I’m done?” Wade shook his head and Peter took that as enough incentive to move on.

“Good,” he replied, nodding his head in return and sliding his hand from Wade’s rough lips. Suddenly, he felt much less confident than he had at the bar. And no, that wasn’t the alcohol. Well, maybe. But it wasn’t that he believed it any less, he was just suddenly overwhelmed with trepidation, wondering what Wade’s reaction might be and terrified to hear it. “Okay,” he finally forced himself to start. “Here’s the thing. I know you’re all skeptical and shy and what the hell ever about…this... whole thing,” he continued, gesturing with his hands. “And yeah, I was at first too, you know that. But it’s been a while, and I’ve had time to think, and I finally figured it out. I mean, maybe not completely, but..enough to know that I want this. And I want you. Maybe you don’t know how this will go a year from now, or even a month, but does that matter? I want to try this, and if you walk away right now because you’re scared? If you don’t believe that I can change my mind? Don’t expect me to want to try again.” Wade was being so patient with him, so uncharacteristically quiet. It was almost unnerving, actually, so he bent down to reward him with a subtle kiss before righting himself again, demanding an answer. “Trust me, Wade. Okay? Give me a chance. I’m giving you one, right?”  
And the way Wade looked at him then, so open and raw and terrified, it almost broke him. Ripped him right through the middle. He had never known that eyes could say so much. It looked like..like everything and everyone he’d ever wanted, ever had, had up and abandoned him. Like he couldn’t trust that anything good or new or even remotely happy could stay, and he would rather cut it off and let it fade away, have the memory of what could have been, than let it bloom and die and leave him with another scar of what was. Peter wasn’t sure what to say, but he was definitely not about to cry. No, no way, those were not tears pricking at his eyes, he must have..gotten..bitten by a spider. Yep, that was it. But he couldn’t just sit there, mouth gaping open, and not do anything. So, he followed instinct, cupped Wade’s face in his hands and kissed him firmly on the mouth, both of them choking down sounds that would have been embarrassingly pathetic had he been in the company of anybody else, but somehow any sense of unease was completely foreign to him at that moment, with Wade’s lips pressing hard against his and arms wrapped around his torso. 

“Peter, I really—“

“Shh, no, stop talking, no talking right now,” Peter tried to quiet him, but, Wade was insistent. He broke away, pressing against the back of the couch as far as he could to stay out of reach from Peter’s lips.

“No, I need to say this, okay? You got your turn, now it’s mine. Don’t make me tie you down,” he joked, still somehow able to do that at a time like this, and they were both probably pretty ashamed that they had to pause at that thought because really? Now? Not the time. He cleared his throat before he went on, “It’s hard, okay? I mean, to do that. To just, ya know, take your word that it’s gonna be okay. I’ve been through a lot of shit, Pete. A hell of a lot, and I try to play it off, but sometimes, I dunno, it gets to me. I never really thought I’d..well, you’d…agree to any of this, that I’d be here or anything, and it’s really fucking hard not to tuck tail and turn out now that I am. But I’m gonna make you a promise. A deal, I guess. If you don’t dip out just ‘cause you’re worried this is all gonna go south, then I won’t. I mean, if you really hate it that much then, well, it’ll suck but yeah, go for it. But not because of any damn what ifs, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter replied, rushing in to kiss him again, because, honestly, how could he not?

“Promise?”

He couldn’t help a small chuckle at how adamant Wade was being, but it showed his genuine interest, that he was really going to try, and how could he be annoyed about that? “Promise,” he muttered, pulling him in by the collar to deepen the kiss. Either that did a good enough job of shutting Wade up, or he was just too worried about anything he had to say, because he slipped into a focused silence, returning the kiss like it was the only thing that mattered. He must have poured everything he wanted to say into that kiss, making it faster, more heated, more needy and greedy and urgent every time their lips parted or a tongue skated past or a hushed whisper of a moan fell from one of their lips. At some point, Wade had managed to manoeuver them around so that Peter’s back was flat against the cushions of the couch, Wade’s body pressing down over him. He hadn’t even noticed until he lifted his hips and realised that he was under rather than over those beautiful muscles, warmth trapped between them as he felt lips against his neck.

“Wade,” he croaked, mouth dry as the fucking desert, and he needed to choke down a quick breath before he could continue, back arching into every touch. Damn, Wade was good with his hands. And his mouth. Not that Peter hadn’t figured that out already, but, this was…this was different. He didn’t feel the urge to kick him away and roll around in a burrito of blankets and guilt. He wanted more, dammit, and this was really not the place for that. “Wade, bed?” he managed, proud of himself for even being able to form those few words. Wade pried himself away from a tender spot on Peter’s neck, purple and red already blooming under black ink (although no pain accompanied the colour), and stared at him dazed for a moment, as though he’d forgotten that people could speak and was scrambling to remember what exactly those words meant.

“Bed? Bed! Right, bed, I..I like bed. Let’s do bed,” he answered, the words tumbling from his mouth almost more quickly than Peter could process them. While he was still working on that, he was peeled from the couch and hoisted up, lanky legs wrapping around Wade’s waist for a secure hold as they walked into the bedroom. It was sort of unexpected how strong Wade was, though it probably shouldn’t have been, his fingers digging into Peter’s thighs for purchase so they didn’t have a nasty fall. By the time they made it to the bed, he was reluctant to let go of Wade’s shoulders, but, well, Wade was pretty adamant about it.

“Hey, we could do this the hard way, or you could let go o’ me and lemme take my clothes off. Your choice,” he muttered with a shrug against Peter’s lips. No arguing there, no, nope, that seemed like a good idea. He’d gotten kind of a preview earlier with Wade’s pants tugged around his knees, but now he was ready for the full show, thank you. So, he loosened his grip and let Wade wriggle from his clothes, more dexterously than Peter apparently. He was having a difficult time kicking his jeans from the bottoms of his feet, and Wade just stood there, laughing for a moment, before they both fell sort of silent. The only sound was a quiet “whoa,” from Wade’s lips as they both stared, taking in all of the sights there were to see. Peter could barely hold in a groan when he saw Wade’s cock twitch, rising just a little higher, and felt himself mirror the reaction. Because, really, if he had to pick one word to describe the naked form of Wade Wilson standing in front of him, it would be…well, it would probably more of a collection of broken syllables and needy sobs, but goddamn also came to mind.

In a moment, Wade was right between his legs again, grinding their hips together in a way that forced a loud moan from Peter’s throat, an equally enthusiastic from his own in response. Peter's hips shifted upward, searching for more friction and being pretty heavily rewarded when his own arousal pressed hard against Wade's, causing him to rut the two together at a fast pace, like punishment for the pleasure. He probably could have been content to do stay exactly like that for the rest of his life, except..no. No, definitely not. Not when Wade's had dipped behind him, roughly fumbled with the flesh of his ass to squeeze them together harder and make them both groan like they were getting paid for it. He reached his own hand down, experimentally wrapping the fingers around Wade's length, and it was about the time he made his first quick stroke that he decide he needed more. Now. 

"Hey," he he groaned through a raw voice fuelled by high emotion and hot arousal. "This is great and all, but I really think we need to..to.." He rolled his hips sharply to get his point across, not quite sure how to get the point across since the thought made every part of him flare into a humiliating pink blush. Which, of course, Wade seemed to love. 

"Yeah?" He asked, eyes wide and full of awe as his eyes scanned Peter's rosy body, not sure where to settle. "You got any..ah..any, ya know, lube or anything? I don't wanna.."

Peter panted out a laugh and ducked his head slightly, nodding to a small table next to his bed. He appreciated that Wade wanted to make sure it was enjoyable, comfortable, and was glad that for once one of them might have actually been using his head. Well, the right one this time. As Wade reluctantly sat himself up at the edge of the bed, Peter followed suit, admiring the work on his back with eyes and fingers tracing the lines. A katana on each shoulder, crossing just above the small of his back; a plethora of smaller marks nestled in between the two; and..okay, that seemed a little out of place. There was some sort of symbol on the back of his neck, red and black and white like a little panda bear. Well, whatever, he could have sworn he saw Hello Kitty hidden somewhere among all the ink, so that really shouldn't have been much of a surprise. 

While Peter was busy admiring his physique, Wade had been humming in appreciation of nimble fingers, digging through the night stand (man did Peter need to clean that thing out) until he finally found the bottle he was looking for. It was still nearly full; hey, Peter might not have gotten laid much, but he liked to be prepared. Came in handy, didn't it? Wade turned his head to smirk, kiss him fully on the lips before pushing him back down into the mattress. He didn't break the kiss, using it to keep him interested as he popped open the cap, slathered up his fingers and pressed one against him. 

Peter made a quiet noise in response to the coldness pressing up against him, Wade mimicking the sound as he revelled in the feeling of skin on skin, finger closing around his finger and opening to him as he inched forward. Peter's hips lifted of their own accord, twisting slightly to adjust to the sensation. 

"Doin' okay, baby boy?" Wade asked, easing his finger forward and backward, going a little deeper each time, Peter's hips gently following the rhythm. 

"Better once we get this going," he quipped in response, tilting his head back and groaning as another digit joined the first, the pace picking up. With his neck exposed, Wade took the opportunity to lick a stripe down in, bite at the jaw, the base, the crook of his shoulder, making Peter squirm. It wasn't long before he was writhing, practically whining and Wade slipped in another finger, less cautiously and a little rougher. Their kisses had gotten sloppy, teeming with teeth and tongue and pornographic moans. It was just about when Peter thought he couldn't take it anymore that Wade finally pulled himself free, reached for the bottle again and Peter shot up, wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him fiercely because he was not losing that contact, thank you. 

"Here, let me," he muttered, grabbed the bottle from the other's hands, and Wade was a little preoccupied with his mouth to protest even if he'd wanted to. Hint: he didn't. Peter deftly popped the cap and spread the liquid onto his palm with one hand (being an artist pays off in more ways than one), wrapped his slim fingers around Wade's length with a groan from them both and started with a fast and wavy rhythm. He could have gotten lost in that, the feeling of sitting there stroking Wade's slick cock until they both came, but he needed more. They both did, and it didn't take much before Wade had decided that he was plenty ready, and Peter too. 

He found himself beneath the larger form again, a damp heat pushing against him in the most teasing way. He was just about to spend the last of his dignity and actually beg, but Wade was even less patient than Peter, and before the words left his mouth a moan took their place, Wade squeezing his eyes shut and sliding fully in with a long, loud groan.

"Shit, Pete," he breathed, pulled his hips back and snapped them forward with a full body shudder and another soft moan. "You're...you're..Jesus, fuckin' amazing."

Peter couldn't really focus on speaking to reply, instead rocked his hips against Wade's and muffled his own moan by claiming another of their signature disheveled kisses. Wade's hips began a slow and steady movement, but it didn't take long before they sped up and Peter could barely even see straight. His hips were working to keep up with Wade's, his head was swimming and his vision slightly blurred, every nerve in his body singing and shivering as a continuous moan poured from his mouth. Wade seemed damn near falling apart with each of Peter's reactions, stuttering in his movement from time to time and muttering nonsense under his breath that still managed to be flattering and filthy all at once. Talk of Peter's prowess and size as a large hand gripped his cock, making him practically scream, of his smooth skin and suffocating heat, of how he hoped to god he thought it was hot if he came quickly because he he kept all of that up there was no way he could last. 

They were both out of breath, gasping with chests heaving and ragged breathing. With every thrust Peter couldn't help but think that he'd never felt anything so fantastic. He'd had good sex before, sure, but this was off the charts. Part of him wondered if it was because it was their first time together, or if it would only get better as they went, and either way was honestly pretty exciting. Whenever he could breathe enough to speak, he assured Wade that he wasn't the only one enjoying this so much. The slight burn of being stretched, the pressure against his muscles and the hand sliding up and down his shaft, catching on the head, it was...intoxicating. He worked his hips to help his muscles massage against Wade's cock each time it pressed into him, eager to do his part. His nails raked down a scarred back, and the feeling sent chills down his spine. 

Wade leaned in, groaned in his ear, rolled the love beneath his teeth and moaned his name, and that was it. He couldn't hold it any longer, screaming out his partner's name as he came, splattering the aftermath between their sweat-slick stomachs. His orgasm was intense, wracking his entire body and making him feel absolutely limp and weightless, lightheaded and higher than any drug could take him. The only thing anchoring him to reality for that moment was the feeling of Wade still moving inside him, but even that didn't last long. The harsh contraction of Peter's muscles must have been too much for him to take, because he quickly followed suit, spilling himself and hanging his head, fighting to catch his breath and hold himself up so that he didn't collapse all of his weight directly onto the smaller male. 

"Jesus fucking Christ in a corn dog," he muttered, rolling off of Peter and kissing the side of his head. "That was...were there words for that? I don't think there were words for that, and that's saying something," he breathed, forcing out a chuckle. 

 

"Perfect maybe?" Peter replied, returning the laugh. "You've got a tough act to follow next time," he teased, and got up to fetch a towel an clean both of their stomachs (and the inside of his thigh) before tossing it aside and laying down again. 

Wade made a noise somewhere between a hum and a laugh. "I got a few tricks up my sleeve," he assured, pulling Peter in to squeeze him tightly. 

The thought occurred to him that maybe they should shower, but there was no way in hell he could handle that right now. Even getting up to grab a towel so they could lay comfortably had been a challenge, so bathing would have to wait. There was no doubt in his mind that he would sleep like a rock that night. 

"Mm, good. Better stick around and prove it," he mumbled through a yawn, a sort of lighthearted jab at earlier conversations. "And I mean more than just tonight. But you're staying the night, too, in case you were wondering," he added with a smile. 

 

Wade had said something in reply, he was sure of it. What he wasn't sure of was what that reply was; it had fallen on deaf ears, since Peter was as good as dead asleep by then, drifting off with a grin on his lips and the promise of good dreams and a great view in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you're all enjoying this. I've definitely enjoyed writing it (full of typos and screw ups though it may be), but uh..well, I've been having a little trouble feeling inspired recently, so I apologise for the amount of time this next chapter is taking. If you have any feedback or suggestions that you'd like me to consider for this fic, please, feel free to let me know. Just drop a line here or over at my tumblr (carcinojeneticist) and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm able. Thanks, guys. 


	7. When I'm Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Tonight what, Wade?” he asked, brow knitted in concern as he turned his face to study Wade’s. He’d hoped that maybe he could find an answer there, or at least a little.. god, what, comfort? Assurance that no, Pete, it wasn’t actually anything bad you can stop worrying now, he decided to give us the rest of the week off and pay for our flight to the Bahamas because he’s just so happy for us? Of course, none of that was what he found, instead being met with the same expression that had been glued to his face since Nate had walked through the door._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've had a lot, and I mean a lot, happen since the last time I updated this. A lot of different things kept me from writing at all, and for a while I needed to stay away from this story and sort of from spideypool in general for some personal reasons. But I read and appreciate every comment, every kudos, everything you guys left for me here in that time. It was all so sweet and encouraging and a big part of the reason why I've been able to start writing this again. So thank you all for the lovely comments and support, really.  
> I may not be able to update as frequently as I did when this first came out, but I do intend to keep it updated.
> 
> Lastly, I'm sorry for the direction this took. I wanted to keep things light and fluffy a bit longer, but that's not where the story wanted me to go. It'll get back there, though.

A pink tongue peeked out from the corner of Peter’s mouth, his brow furrowed as he focused intently on the way his needle practically seemed to glide over skin. It was early; technically the shop wasn’t even open yet but this was a special request, and he was glad to oblige. There wasn’t really much space left on Wade’s skin for more tattoos, but he had asked, and Peter would be lying to himself if he said he wouldn’t be honoured to give him (possibly his last) mark. He had managed to find a little spot on the side of his arm, just below the shoulder. Wade had given him free reign to put whatever he wanted, saying that the important thing was that it was from Peter. The temptation to put something ridiculous, like a hitman monkey or a giant dick giving a thumbs up was almost too powerful to resist, but somehow he managed. He opted instead for one of his own original designs: a stylised spider in red and blue to stand out against the sea of black.

Wade winced and Peter ducked his head around to make sure he was okay, taking the opportunity to slide his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Are you okay?” he asked, maybe a little more panic in his voice than necessary.

“Nnh, yeah-” Wade answered, wriggling slightly. “Just.. got an itch.. can’t.. scratch it.” He scrunched his nose and rolled his other shoulder, trying not to move too much.

Peter sighed and sat back, setting the needle down for a minute. “Go ahead, scratch it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m almost done anyway.”

Wade groaned in relief, his hand shooting under his arm to vigorously scratch at his side. This was the person Peter had somehow let himself get involved with, and he honestly couldn’t say he regretted it, even as he watched Wade scratch his armpit like he’d never heard of manners in his life. Thank god there were no other customers in the shop. While Wade took care of his itch, Peter crossed his arms over his chest and admired his own work. It looked nice, very nice, actually, if he did say so himself. The bright red and blue in stark contrast to all that black, but complementing it as well. The lines were crisp and clean, of course, though they’d look better once it started to heal up. His tongue found its way to the corner of his mouth again as he looked the piece over for any flaws, anything he might need to change. Of course, there would be none, he was skilled and precise, but, hey, it never hurt to check.

“Heh, pretty cute like that,” Wade snickered, smirking at him and flicking his thumb over Peter’s tongue.

Peter shook his head slightly, coming out of his own thoughts, and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You always think I’m cute,” he countered.

“You always are.” Wade made a face, sounded offended that Peter could even think otherwise. That didn’t last long before Peter found himself being dragged in Wade’s direction, their lips colliding in a surprisingly tender kiss. That still always sort of shocked him, how gentle and caring Wade could be. He’d always seemed all hard muscle and hard heart, a quick fuck then onto the next. But their relationship had been going.. surprisingly well, and had already lasted than Peter ever would’ve given him credit for before. He was kind of ashamed of how quick he’d been to judge him before, but that’s how Wade had wanted to be seen, right?

Glimpses of that Wade still made it through, especially in public, but when they were alone he let his guard down. At least, sort of. Sometimes he was warm and loving and almost a completely different guy than Peter’s first impression would’ve led him to believe. But sometimes.. sometimes he seemed more distant, almost like he wanted Peter to cave and confront him about it and blow things out of proportion. But that was just the old peeking through right? Or the part of him that was still so scared of things not working out that he was tempted to break that old promise and get the hell outta Dodge. He wasn’t going to do that, though. No, they’d made a pact; neither of them was going to take the easy way out. Peter couldn’t help but worry sometimes, though.. but he shoved it down and cleared his head and tried to remember that things were going pretty well, thanks. Which was actually kind of scary, because it’d been how long since he’d had a working relationship? An embarrassing amount of time, really, let’s leave it at that.

“Shut up,” he groaned, trying to sound more exasperated than he really was because goddammit if he didn’t like when Wade called him cute. He stole another quick kiss and wiped the bit of ink and blood that lingered from his boyfriend’s (fuck, should he really call him that or is there probably a better term that wouldn’t make his heart jump in his throat?) arm and spun him toward the mirror so he could get a better look than craning his head around.

Wade whistled low and kissed his bicep, patted it with a slight cringe and turned to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Beautiful, Petey,” he cooed. “Just like you.”

Peter could feel the warmth in his cheeks as he flushed bright pink, swallowed and pushed his glasses up and turned quickly to his vanity to collect some gauze and treatments to clean the tattoo and cover it, but also to take any attention from his reddening face because he was way too cool to be blushing over this thug calling him pretty. “I thought I told you to shut up,” he joked as he turned back around and tended to Wade’s arm, Wade pouting about the fact that it had to be covered but health and safety first, for Christ’s sakes you work in a tattoo parlour, Peter would remind him. And Wade needed reminding probably more often than an employee should, but it had almost become an endearing game between them.

“Mmmmhm and I’m pretty sure I remember not caring.” Wade pulled him around for another kiss, and groaned when they were interrupted by the bell over the door chiming as someone walked in. But.. wait, it was still just before open, so either there was a very polite burglar who decided the front door was the most courteous way to rob a business, or the boss was here. The boss. Their boss. The last time Peter had seen him was.. Jesus, he couldn’t even remember. Nate wasn’t exactly known for showing his face around the shop, or much of anywhere, as far as Pete could tell. He kept the business up and well, but seemed to stay as far away as possible. Peter had always wondered about that, but it meant a clean, quiet shop, no boss hovering over his shoulder, and paychecks deposited directly into his bank account so he couldn’t really complain.

“Good, you’re here” Nate grunted, his eyes focusing on Wade. Peter had tried to put some distance between them because oh god he could just feel the termination slip for getting it on with his coworker in the shop but that was only once -er, well, twice- but it wasn’t really his choice at the time and-  
Nate didn’t seem at all interested in the fact that Wade was still groping his ass. He didn’t really seem to care at all one way or the other about his employees, actually, which worked out pretty well in this case, and Peter felt a sigh of relief trickle through him.

The hulk of a man nodded tersely at Wade, then again at the back room where they usually took their lunches, and Peter glanced up to notice that Wade’s face had gone cold and flat, jaw clenched and eyes dead set on the manager. “Be back in a minute, Pete,” Wade assured him, squeezing his ass for emphasis but the playfulness wasn’t mimicked in his voice.

“Yeah, alright,” Pete replied, grasping at Wade’s hand as he followed Nate to the back of the building. He sat himself on the counter, not bothering to unlock the door yet even though it was a few minutes past time to open. If Nate was here, chances were he wouldn’t want anyone else around til he was gone. He couldn’t help but wonder what the two were talking about; his fingers drummed the counter and his stomach felt queasy with nerves because he was still about 98% sure that somehow whatever was happening back there was very bad and very much his fault. His feet kicked the air and he looked at the clock on the wall; it had only been a few minutes but a few minutes can feel like forever if you’re waiting to almost definitely lose your job.

Finally the two of them emerged from the back room, Wade stopping next to Peter as Nate headed straight for the door. “Tonight, Wade,” he said, and Peter wanted to ask what that was about but he was gone again just as quickly as he’d come.

“Tonight what, Wade?” he asked, brow knitted in concern as he turned his face to study Wade’s. He’d hoped that maybe he could find an answer there, or at least a little.. god, what, comfort? Assurance that no, Pete, it wasn’t actually anything bad you can stop worrying now, he decided to give us the rest of the week off and pay for our flight to the Bahamas because he’s just so happy for us? Of course, none of that was what he found, instead being met with the same expression that had been glued to his face since Nate had walked through the door.

Wade was silent for a moment, then let out a long breath and rubbed his hands gently over Peter’s sides. “Ah, look, Pete. You remember that other job, yeah?” Oh right. The other job. The one he’d mentioned once on their first ‘date’ and never explained another word about, even brought up, in the time since then that they’d been together. That job, right?

“Other job, right, yeah, of course,” he replied. The knot in his stomach quickly crawling its way up to his throat made it a little difficult to be as sarcastic as he would’ve liked just then, but that probably would’ve come out all wrong anyway. Leave it to Peter Parker, Fuck Up Extraordinaire, to make a situation even more unbearably awkward and tense.

“Well, somethin’s come up and I ahm.. I gotta leave, Pete. Tonight.” It was a weird feeling, everything seeming to jump into his throat and sink to his feet all at once. He really shouldn’t have been reacting so harshly, it wouldn’t be that long right? But everything had just started going so well, they were just starting to really settle into.. all of this and now he had to go away? Now?

He cleared his throat and tried not to sound as shaky as he felt. “Oh.. Tonight, right. How um- how long?” It couldn’t have been too long, right? Over the time he’d worked there, he’d noticed some strange absences on Wade’s part, but he’d mostly figured that had just been part of his showing up an hour and a half late, jumping straight to lunch break and never doing any work thing. Last time had only been a day or so, right? He could live with that, he could live with a day. A few, even, probably. But to have everything going so well, and suddenly swept out from underneath him for who knew how long? That.. was not something he’d thought to prepare for. Or knew how to deal with. Or- oh god..

“Dunno, Pete.” Was the simple reply. “I’m sorry.”

“Wade, c’mon, now? Can’t you say no? Just this once, I mean the timing is just so fucking awful and I- I don’t even know where you’re going, what you’re going to do, at least tell me that. At least tell me what this ‘other job’ is, I feel like I deserve to know as your-” he cut himself off before he said the word, could feel himself choking on it before it even reached his mouth. But he did, dammit. He didn’t care that they were new to this whole thing, this was something he deserved to know.

“Later, Petey.” He promised. “When I get back.”

Wade squeezed his sides tight, kissed him firmly, abruptly tore away and Peter could’ve sworn he heard a soft, pained almost whine escape through his gritting teeth before he turned and left.

And Peter was left standing there. Alone. Again.

 

 


End file.
